“Correct.”
“Amazing,” she muttered.
“What is?” He grinned, thinking he would soon be on the receiving end of a compliment.
“You can kill with your bare hands, are known throughout London as being this skilled warrior… and yet, your solution to our problem is to run.”
“Yes, well, the faster you run, the faster I chase, and the faster I catch, I am able to do what I’ve been wanting to do since the minute I set eyes upon you.”
“Sleep?” She lifted her shoulder and winked.
“If the other word offends your delicate sensibilities, then yes, sweetheart, I want to sleep you.”
Sofia giggled.
Ash groaned. Hell, even saying sleep had him aching.
Another knock.
“He’ll keep knocking.” Sofia sighed.
“Blanket.” Ash handed it to her. “Now repeat the plan back to me.”
“I don’t know, that may take a while,” she teased.
He glared.
“Wrap and run.”
“Good girl.”
“Glad I please you.”
“Ah, yes. Yes, you will.” He took her mouth once more then opened the carriage door, blocking her from the footman’s view as she wrapped herself in the blanket.
She joined him and, as planned, ran up the stairs into his townhome, the very one he hadn’t set foot in until the morning when, in a flurry of excitement, Hunter had sent over a few staff members of his own to help prepare a meal, as well as one room that wasn’t filled with dust.
“It’s beautiful.” Sofia gasped, turning around full circle in the entryway.
“Yes, your stepmother would have been pleased.”
“Ha!” Sofia shrugged. “Had she not been imprisoned. I’m sure she would be.”
“Are you sorry?” he asked gently, cupping her face.
“No, though I’m shocked she survived the cut to the throat.” Sofia shook her head, casting her gaze to the floor. “I am sorry that she will always be unhappy, but not sorry she got exactly what she deserved.”
“As did you.”
“Yes, I received you.”
“And a castle,” Ash pointed out. “As well as all your father’s wealth, a relative kingdom in its own right, an earl, my riches—”
“Your riches?”
“Oh yes, about that. I’m quite wealthy.”
“Good thing I married you.”
“Isn’t it, though?” He kissed her forehead then ripped the blanket from her body.
“Ash!” She gasped. “Someone will see.”
“We’ve employed three of Hunter’s staff. Believe me when I say, they have seen it all, poor sods.”
“Ash!” Her voice screeched.
“My dear, you forgot the other half of the plan.”
Her eyes narrowed, and then, with a smirk, she ran up the stairs. The sound of doors slamming was the only indication that she was searching for the room with the lit fireplace. The only room that had been cleaned.
Feeling sorry for her, considering there were fifteen bedrooms in all, Ash slowly ascended the stairs and paused when she clicked open the correct door and looked back at him with a saucy grin. “Are you ready for your prize?”
His body hummed with excitement as he slowly, methodically stalked toward her. When he reached the room, he slammed the door behind him and leaned against it and watched.
Sofia maneuvered herself out of the dress — what was left of it — and crooked her finger in his direction.
“I imagine I should collect my winnings now.” Ash crossed his arms. “Then again, I’m enjoying the view far too much to move just yet.”
Sofia blushed to the roots of her hair and then placed her hands on her naked hips.
Ash followed her hands, his gaze taking in every ounce of bare skin. “Care to twirl for me, darling?”
“Twirl?”
“Yes,” he breathed. “At least twice, I need to get every angle, you understand…”
Her eyebrows arched. “Oh really? For what purpose?”
“For the purpose of creating a complete mental image of perfection.”
“Pretty words.”
“Yes, well, I’ve been practicing those.” He pushed away from the door. “Pretty words, big words, words that sound intelligent, words that cause clothes to give up and fall from my wife’s body.”
She let out a giggle. “Playful little assassin in the bedroom. I would have never thought.”
“Nor I,” he said honestly. “Now twirl.”
“And commanding.”
“Do not make me ask three times.”
“Why?” Voice husky, she jutted out her hip. “Will there be a punishment?”
“Guess you’ll just have to test me to find out.”
Slowly, she turned, but only halfway, so her backside was facing him. The curve of her body was something from a painting.
He let out a groan and managed to make it a few more steps before his hands were bracing her hips from behind.
She leaned her soft body against his.
“Too many clothes, husband.”
“We can remedy that.” He began undressing. “But stay put.”
She shivered.
And he removed his clothes faster than he thought humanly possible. When he reached for her again, it was just them, body to body, skin to skin. His blood hummed with excitement — with need.
Years. It had been years since he’d been naked with a woman.
But this was a first.
He had a feeling of completeness by simply standing next to her, their bodies brushing against one another, creating the softest friction. The greatest pleasure imaginable.
“Ash?” Sofia’s head tilted back, resting against his shoulder as she peered up and kissed his chin. “This would be enough… if it was just us, standing like this, for the rest of our lives. It would be enough.”
Emotion clogged his throat. He took her mouth with a vengeance, sucking every inch of passion out of her, replacing it with his own. She tasted of wine, berries, of beauty.
She turned in his arms.
He wasted no time, lifting her into the air, wrapping her legs around his waist.
With a huff, he pulled her onto the bed, hovering over her, kissing every inch of skin then repeating the process until he was dying with the need to fill her, the need to truly make them one.
“Ash—” Sofia gasped, her hands clenching the satin sheets. “Please.”
When they joined—
He nearly blacked out.
After ten years of being numb, of closing himself off from the world… he finally experienced a fullness that only comes with finding one’s soul mate.
Sofia’s nails dug into his back.
Sweat poured from his brow as he tried to savor the moment — but it was over too soon.
“Ten years.” She laughed against his neck.
“Yes,” he growled. “And I get an eternity to make up for it.”
“We do.”
“Together.” His forehead touched hers.
A tear slid down her cheek. “Thank you… for rescuing me.”
“I did nothing of the sort. I imagine you rescued yourself and just allowed me to ride in the carriage.”
“I love you, my soldier.”
“And I you, my princess.”
EPILOGUE
AND SO THE STORY goes.
Rosalind and Stefan found their Happily Ever After in an arranged marriage and family curse.
Isabelle and Dominique moved forward, though the scars of the past tried to keep their happiness at bay.
Gwen and Hunter allowed themselves to fight with one another rather than against.
And Sofia and Ash discovered that sometimes true love means letting go of what one has held onto for so long — and letting love consume all.
And the best part? They all lived happily ever after. After all, they believed in the fairytale, and it had come true.
AUT
HOR’S NOTE
As many of you know, I took a huge break, a break I wasn’t really planning on taking, from writing historical romance. I switched to New Adult and Contemporary Romance and really found my niche but missed the glory of the Regency era.
Historical has always been my first love, but it’s a difficult genre to write. I have so much respect for authors who are able to write book after book in this genre and keep the facts accurate as well as interesting. When I write Regency, I’m aware I take a lot of creative license with the language as well as the era. I try to keep it as accurate as possible, but I understand that my historical books won’t ever win crazy awards for having the most facts in them.
I write historical because, to me, historical books are like a fairytale. They take us back to a time where women wore ball gowns, where men still bowed, where they still asked permission (unless they were a rake) for a kiss. It’s such a treasured time in our past, and I love being a part of it, even if it’s a really small part!
The Regency era was a time of extravagance, where gentlemen made bets on raindrops and were more concerned with the tying of their cravat than anything else. I hope that, by reading my historicals (especially those readers who are new to my historical romance titles), you’ll dive into other authors who are much more talented than I in this genre and discover what secrets this era holds!
As always, if you enjoyed the book, leave a review. If you hated it, leave a review. I promise I won’t stalk you on Facebook or unfollow you on Twitter if it’s a bad review. Criticism is always welcome, and I know I won’t always be everyone’s cup of tea! Thank you for taking your time to read the final book in the London Fairy Tales series!
Hugs!
RVD
OTHER BOOKS BY RACHEL VAN DYKEN
The Bet Series
The Bet (Forever Romance)
The Wager (Forever Romance)
The Dare
Eagle Elite
Elite (Forever Romance)
Elect (Forever Romance)
Entice
Elicit
Bang Bang
Enforce (December 2014)
Ember (January 2015)
Seaside Series
Tear
Pull
Shatter
Forever
Fall
Strung
Capture (January 2015)
Wallflower Trilogy
Waltzing with the Wallflower
Beguiling Bridget
Taming Wilde
London Fairy Tales
Upon a Midnight Dream
Whispered Music
The Wolf’s Pursuit
When Ash Falls
Renwick House
The Ugly Duckling Debutante
The Seduction of Sebastian St. James
The Redemption of Lord Rawlings
An Unlikely Alliance
The Devil Duke Takes a Bride
Ruin Series
Ruin
Toxic
Fearless
Shame
The Consequence Series
The Consequence of Loving Colton (March 2015)
The Consequence of Revenge (May 2015)
Other Titles
The Parting Gift
Compromising Kessen
Savage Winter
Divine Uprising
Every Girl Does It
Be sure to check out these titles as well:
TWO TURTLEDOVES
by Leah Sanders
published by Astraea Press
PROLOGUE
THE MOURNING CALL OF the turtle dove echoed across the field, muffled only by the rustling of the nearby trees in the mild summer breeze. From the far side, a lone figure, a boy no older than one and six, carried a musket at the ready, wading through the tall field grass with a slow, deliberate gait. His gaze scoured the land all around him. The crack of a twig brought him swinging around to take aim at the disturbance, but his sudden movement startled the prey, sending it scurrying back into the cover of the nearby thicket.
He shook his head and turned in the opposite direction, following his original path. His bright copper hair danced in the light gust sweeping the field as he traipsed forward once again, musket at the ready.
A piercing scream mingled with the call of the turtle doves, startling the hunter and the wildlife. There was an instant rush in the trees as birds took to wing. The boy craned his neck in the direction of the unearthly wail. It seemed to come from beyond the line of trees.
Somewhere in the blur of thick foliage, he seemed to catch sight of something he wasn’t expecting. Patches of bright blue interspersed among the leaves high in a tree glittered in the sunlight.
Tiptoeing forward, he made his way through the field to stand directly under the giant oak. He slung his musket over his shoulder, crossed his arms, and gazed up into the branches at the offending apparition.
“Young Miss Trent, I presume?”
Her only response was a pitiful whimper. She gazed down on him with wide brown eyes which glistened with fresh tears.
“Are you stuck?” he asked.
After a moment of hesitation, she answered with a loud sniffle. “Yes.”
“Then I shall rescue you, fair damsel,” he announced, sweeping low into a grand bow. He removed his musket sling and game satchel and leaned them against the base of a nearby elm. Without further ado, he reached for the lowest branch and hoisted himself up, crawling higher and higher until he reached her side.
“Alas, fair lady, your knight has arrived.” His most dazzling smile comforted the frightened girl. “However did you come to be imprisoned here in this tower, Princess?”
“My foot is stuck.”
“I see. This is a grave situation indeed. May I?” He gestured to her slipper. Her mousy brown pigtails bounced when she nodded her assent.
With a gentle twist, the boy freed her foot from its confinement. He lifted her into his arms and started back down the tree.
Once safe on the ground, he set the little girl on her feet and knelt on one knee to examine her face-to-face.
“Are you well, Princess?”
She bobbed her head again and threw her arms around his neck.
“There now, Princess,” he said, patting her gently on the back. “All is well.”
As if she remembered her part in the farce, she released him and stepped back with a coy smile and a sweet curtsy. “Thank you, Sir Knight, for rescuing me.”
“At your service, my lady,” he said, rising to his feet and bowing at the waist. “‘Tis my sworn duty to protect a lady of the realm.”
She giggled. Her eyes shone bright with joy in their little game.
“Are you hungry, Princess?” He picked up his hunting satchel and reached inside it, fishing out a shiny red apple and a hard biscuit.
The little girl smiled wide, showing a gap where her two front teeth used to be.
“Oh, dear. I suppose the apple is out of the question then,” the boy said with a wink. “Unless…” he paused thoughtfully, then reached a hand into his bag once more, retrieving a small hunting knife with triumphant flair. “Ta-da!”
She clapped and shrieked with laughter.
“Apple, Princess?”
Her enthusiastic nod sent him straight to work peeling and slicing the fruit into crisp slivers.
They sat under the tree together. He handed the juicy slices to her one at a time, and she munched on them happily. “Thank you, Sir Knight!”
“You, my dear princess, may call me Baldwyn.”
“Baldwyn,” she tried it out, chasing it with a short burst of bubbly little girl laughter.
“There now. Isn’t this much better than being stuck up in that old tree?”
“Yes!”
“Whatever were you doing up there anyway?”
“I was looking for the nest.”
“The nest?”
“The turtle doves. Daddy says they make their nests out here in the spring and fly away in the
fall.”
“That’s true. They do like it out here in the fields.”
“I heard them crying. I thought maybe they needed help.”
“Ah, yes. They do sound terribly sad, don’t they?”
“Yes. Like they’ve lost their true love.”
The boy chuckled. “I suppose that’s exactly how they sound.” He handed her another sliver of apple. “That sad cry is the sound they make when they call to their mates. Turtle dove pairs don’t like to be apart. So they call to each other, reminding each other where they truly belong.”
She sat silent for a moment, staring at the piece of apple in her hand. “Sometimes I awake at night and hear that sound.” Her voice lowered to a confidential whisper. “Once I followed it to my father’s chamber door.” Her big brown eyes lifted to meet his sparkling blue gaze. “Do you think he cries like that because Mama was his turtle dove?”
The boy’s eyes glistened as he blinked back at her. “That might be,” he whispered finally. They held their peace for a moment, listening to the mournful cry of the turtle doves dodging through the canopy of branches overhead.
Finally, the boy stood and brushed off his breeches. He reached for his musket and satchel and slung them each over his shoulders. He offered a hand to the child who still sat at the base of the giant oak. When she grasped it, he helped her to her feet, then proffered his elbow. “May I see you home, Princess?”
“I’d be delighted, Sir Knight.” Her smile was cheery and bright once more as she rested her tiny fingers on his forearm like the perfect little medieval lady, and the two of them made their way back across the field to the estate house, laughing and joking as they went.
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